The Dreams of a Lonely Dark Lord
by Queen of the Scoubies
Summary: Voldemort does infact dream...but what he dreams of can be quite disturbing...for him anyway...


As the not-so-almighty Dark Lord strolled casually through the deep woods of his lake-side home he couldn't help but think that life was perfect. He had dozens of Death-Eaters to courageously fight his battles, and the future of the wizarding world at his fingertips. Sighing as though having a very good sexually fulfilling dream, he let his oversized feet lead him deep within the forest and closer to a few people he had preyed to never see again.

"HARRY POTTER!!!" he screamed at the scrawny black-haired boy walking with a bushy-haired beaver girl and the tallest red-headed, freckly boy he had ever seen.

Rolling his eyes, the boy-who-lived pointed at his companions "Uh…Tom, you forgot the other two."

Snarling at the use of his given name, he shouted again, "HARRY POTTER AND FRIENDS!!"

"Obviously we need to introduce you to my best-friends", Harry replied while serenely smiling at the snakey-man before him while excessively waving one hand at the freckly giant "Ronald Weasely—chess champion and the winner of Witch Weekly's least likely to fall in love award". Waving the other hand extravagantly at the bushy beaver he continued, "Hermione Granger — muggle-born genius that is going help me magically kick your saggy ass."

Nodding his head at Ron and Hermione, he rolled his eyes before shouting "WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY WOODS?!?"

"Oh dear Voldie…they do keep you in the dark don't they? I bought the house next-door last week and you are currently walking through my woods." Harry smiled at him again, with an abnormal glint in his eye considering the darkness of the woods before turning to his friends and tapping the side of his head.

"There was no property next to mine, that's why I bought this place, and what was that supposed to mean?" Voldie raged fully believing that they were wrong, only he had a house near this lake. He had gotten Pettigrew to check!

"Never mind, but enough about me…what about you?" Harry asked in a very Dumbledore kind of way.

"Yes, you're looking good. Did you get a nose-job?" the Hermione-girl but-in inconsiderately.

"NO! My nose is the same in every snake-like-flat-non-existent-way it was last time I was forced to bear your presence." The Dark Lord rambled seemingly stressed that his nose would change.

"Oh is it that time of the month? Don't worry, you look as disgusting as normal." The giant boy tried to soothingly say but failed miserably due to his intimidating size.

Squeaking, Voldemort shook his head to say no and screamed, "LOOK A DISTRACTION!" before attempting to run away into the far distant safety of his castle but failed as the toes of his abnormally large foot got caught on a tree root resulting with a very feministic scream as he fell flat on his flat face. As his eyes closed, his breathing evened out as his conscious shifted away into another world.

* * *

"Wha' choo doin' down there?" asked a man wearing a dark purple suit as he leant down over the crumpled, dirty form generally known as the Dark Lord. 

"Fell over" replied Voldemort tentatively as he picked a leaf from his imaginary hair.

"Wha' choo fall over for?" the man again asked as he offered a hand to help him off the dirty ant-ridden grass.

Taking the hand offered, Voldemort frowned slightly before inwardly deciding he was going to kill this stupid man, "I didn't do it on purpose."

Suspiciously eying the older man now standing before him, the purple suited man puffed out his chest and smiled before stepping back within the threshold of the triple-decker purple bus now apparent beside them. "Welcome to the Knight Bus; emergency travel for the stranded witch or wizard. My name is Stan Shunpike and I will be your conductor for this evening."

Voldemort now stood beside the preposterously purple bus and surveyed it; looking first up and down, and then side to side before letting his eyes come to rest at the man, Stan Shunpike.

"Wot you say your name was again?" Stan Shunpike asked as he peered at Voldemort, scrutinising every feature as though trying to place his face to a name.

"I didn't" Voldemort replied before stepping cautiously on the bus, careful not to touch anything. He had no idea where this bus had been. Moving precariously towards the front of the bus, he pulled out a pristine white handkerchief and daintily placed it on the nearest leather bound seat and looked determinately out the grimy window.

"Whereabouts you headin'?" Stan asked before taking stand nearby the driver and picking up an old copy of The Daily Prophet sporting the picture of Sirius Black.

"Can you take me anywhere?" Voldemort asked curiously and when receiving a nodding head quickly continued, "The Dark Lords Dark Castle."

"I thort I saw you somewhere" mused Stan more to himself than to Voldemort, "You look jus' like _You-Know-'Oo_."

Raising his eyebrow at this speculating statement Voldemort wondered, 'Is that such a bad thing?' before being jolted out of his seat and onto the unswept floor as the driver started up the Purple triple-decker bus and careened off narrowly missing a street pole.

Picking himself off the floor, he timidly rose and was headed back to his seat when the shrunken head hanging off the rear-view mirror shouted "Little old lady at 12 o'clock, Ern. She's getting closer!" and before Voldemort could respond he was thrown forward and into the grimy window he earlier sat by, and sunk into unconsciousness.

* * *

"Do you think it's dead?" a girl's voice asked as she poked Voldemort's face with a long stick, her expression showing nothing but disgust as he grimaced and opened his eyes. 

"Apparently not Ginny," a tall-red head boy greatly resembling that giant who befriended Harry Potter claimed as he too joined in poking the now-conscious Voldemort who now started to twitch unbecomingly.

"Eww, Fred, it's moving," the girl, Ginny, whined as she took a step further away, as though afraid it would contaminate her with germs of an unholy kind.

"Well George, we have two choices here," begun Fred, apparently, "We can keep poking this helpless being until it cracks and runs out of here and into the public butt-naked, or we could kindly beat it over the head with a blunt rock until it dies. Your choice."

Moaning Voldemort silently begged for the later option, but was silenced again as he felt sharp stabs to the soles of his feet.

"I vote for a bit of both, dear twin. I say we should mercilessly poke it until it wishes it could run out here and into the public butt-naked and then we should harshly beat it over the head with a very blunt rock until it dies." George replied, sounding just like Fred. Maybe there was only one and they were talking to themselves. "What do you think Ginny?"

"Can I poke it again?" the girl asked as she re-took her position and prepared her stick for merciless poking.

"Of course you can, on the count of three. One. Two. Three." One of the twins answered and within seconds all Voldemort could feel was the torturous stabbings of sharp sticks all over his body.

Making feeble attempts to fight them off, Voldemort moaned, groaned, creaked and even once pretended to have an orgasm when they poked his stomach, but nothing would suffice. The poking continued, not once did the sticks relent nor did the poking subside. He was stuck in a world of torture.

"Fred. I think it wants to run out of here and into the public butt-naked now," Claimed the other male voice, George, before he stabbed his stick up Voldemort's nose particularly hard.

"True, get your last pokes in Ginny," Fred claimed as he summoned a smooth round, seemingly weightless rock.

Several violent stabs later with the sharpest stick, Voldemort wanted nothing more than death. Anything would be better than this life, stuck here, being tortured by three bored teenagers apparently on drugs.

"I vote we take it in turns to beat the rock into its head." One voice stated, as Voldemort felt the cold surface of a rock gently tapped his forehead, as one of the three lined up their target.

"Or," Ginny started as she too summoned a rock, "We could all start hammering into its head all at once. It would be quick ane efficient."

"I do love the way your mind thinks little sis," George claimed as he too summoned a rock with his wand and took aim.

"Rocks at your ready. On the count of three. One. Two. Two and a half." He paused torturing Voldemort for one more second before shouting, "Three!"

Immediately there was an onslaught of discomfort as the rocks were pounded into his head, before he drifted off into a pain induced sleep.

* * *

"Oi! Dunderhead! Wake-up!" shouted a voice as his shoulders were shaken in order to wake him up. 

"Bella? Thank god! It's you! I'm here! You're here! We're both here! They aren't here!" Voldemort rambled as he looked at the witch standing over him.

"Are you okay, you're never this happy to wake up?" She drawled before smirking at glancing at his lower regions. "You are excited aren't you?"

Blushing, Voldemort sat up and quickly bunched the sheets at his groin to hide his erection, before shouting, "I love Harry Potter!" and carelessly throwing his arms out, nearly knocking the amused Bellatrix out of the room.

"Uh, breakfast is served." Bella rambled before shooting out of the door and out of sight leaving Voldemort to sit and celebrate his awoken state and new found love for his arch nemesis.

"I love being home. I have Death-Eaters at my beck and call; I have unlimited internet access and a whole room of traitors to torture at my will. Life is good." Voldemort murmured before donning his usual black robes over his blood red boxers and making his way down to breakfast. "Life is good."

**Heya's, I know I haven't written any odd fics for a while, so enjoy, and hopefully I'll be updating my others soon too! Oh, but don't forget to review!!**

**Mwah**

**Queen of the Scoubies**


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